


No longer Plain Pain.

by worddumb



Series: much ABO about everything [2]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grian is in a slightly altered state of mind here, Hopeful Ending, I'm Not Ashamed, I'm Sorry, Just angst, like... high on bleach altered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-12-22 18:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddumb/pseuds/worddumb
Summary: There, I fixed it! It now has a nice ending to satisfy... Something.





	1. Very plain indeed :)

Mumbo is standing at his neighbors door, ready to knock- well, it says it’s ready to knock, when in reality it’s been holding its hand up for about a stack now, way too many thoughts swarming in its head to actually, you know, do it. What if he’s dead-

-Shaking its head vigorously- c’mon you spoon, no one’s ever died because of a heat, at least not that you know off- it’s fine, he’s probably fine, even if he did spend seven days having no contact with the world and heats rarely last more than five- it’s fine. He must be fine.

Throwing yet another glance at the window- nope, still draped- it finally works up enough nerve to knock, trying to make it sound friendly, somehow, and failing spectacularly when its hand trembles at all the worst possible times. 

It stood and waited for a few seconds. 

There was no sound coming from inside. 

Shit.

Mumbo realizes it’s completely blacked out any thoughts only when the softest *click* comes from the door, making it almost collapse to it’s knees with relief- not dead, thank goodness- only to rear back at the smell coming from inside the house, bleach and some sort of sickly sweet cleaning appliances coming together in an unholy mix, Grian himself smelling of _vinegar_\- shit, that is so shitting dangerous, oh no-

“Hi there, Mum”.

Grian had _never _shortened names before.

As if to add to the pile of anxiety at the back of beta’s head, the alpha’s eyes are sunk in, almost black bags making that all the more noticeable, cheekbones prominent enough to cut paper, almost white skin tinted green- he looked like he was about to die of cholera, how much worse could it get- Mumbo was getting light headed from the smell.

The alpha seems to have said something, but it’s so lost it can’t distinguish the words from one another- oh goodness, he spent at least a day in that smell, how was he standing- and than it’s being led around the house, to a small flowery garden, that looks so nice with all the plants it doesn’t know names for climbing walls and trees all around, almost enough to make it forget the walking dead next to it.

Naturally, Mumbo doesn’t forget.

Having been set down on the bench with said walking dead plopping into the grass in front of it about a dozen pix away, it takes a few deep breath to filter the god forsaken bleach out of its lungs for a while. Opening its eyes, it notes the small alpha’s chest heaving irregularly- probably from breathing air for the first time in ages, and not fumes- and relaxes a bit at the sight. 

It really needed that extra proof he was alive, huh?

After a while of just breathing and a slightly awkward silence, Mumbo finally found it in itself to speak up: “Are you okay?”- which was obviously not the greatest opener- Grian was not okay, you didn’t need a degree to see that much- but there’s hoping he might answer, what it’s actually asking.

“‘M fine, but uuh, what about you? You’re Very Pale right now”

Mumbo has a sudden urge to murder something. Ha, hoping.

Instead, it puts its head in its hands for a second, before looking back at the alpha and trying to not let irritation take over its voice- said irritation has nothing to do with the poor thing after all: “Could be better! But well, I only spent about four ticks inhaling bleach, so all in all, I’m pretty good”

Maybe, murder all vinegar production companies- there was no way of knowing what emotion hid behind this vile smell, and who knows what lasting effects this could have- all Mumbo could tell from the alpha’s posture was, he shrunk a bit. Was it fear? Apprehension? Defensiveness? No one knows! Goodness this was frustrating!

“To be fare, I didn’t inhale bleach for too long-“- Grian shuts up pretty quickly at what it can only assume is disbelief its scent is laced with right now, and, before it can even open its mouth, shrinks further with his next words: “-just three days?”

Well, now Mumbo wants to destroy any and all cleaning companies- though destroying whoever got the poor thing into this state seemed like a pretty viable option at this point, and maybe smarter than trying to ruin everyone’s day with the downfall of cleaning supplies- but contains such noble urges to itself, exhaling softly: “And the vinegar?”

The small alpha tries to become even smaller at that- and goodness, it would never guess understanding someone could be this hard simply because of lack of smell- and mumbles ‘five days ago’ as though that answers all question Mumbo has about the matter. 

Not like that really matters anyways- with this thought, it carries on: “Okay then, we should take you to the hos-“- sudden, _disgusting _scent of burning vinegar and feathers makes it cough violently, its lungs and ears _burning _with a crushing wave of _unmistakable fear_\- Mumbo’s vision goes black for a second, though it realizes that only as an afterthought. The tiny alpha before itself is frozen, even paler than before somehow, hands reaching for scent glands, and it can swear it feels his pain.

Alright, okay, fine, even though that’s slightly counterproductive: “Alright, no hospital it is then”

Grian’s face scrunched up in the weirdest way at that, and he’s frozen all over again, eyebrows seemingly unable to decide wether to jump into his hairline or bunch up on his nose, worrying his lip- Mumbo is most certainly talking out of its ass, but he almost looks confused, like this. Or concerned? The latter is less likely-

Anyways, watching the alpha’s face so closely brings to light some other weird things- the guy’s nose is twitching a bit, and if it looks even closer, his eyes seem to keep trailing back to its purse- oh, that’s right!

Reaching for said purse, Mumbo tries to avoid fast moves- if two dozens with this guy taught itself anything, it was being too slow was always better than being too fast- and gets out a sandwich, simple ham sandwich one can make in about two seconds if they have ham and toast and maybe some butter. It didn’t much worry about Grian liking the sandwich- the way all of his body was reaching towards the food really couldn’t be anything, but appreciative and _hungry_\- how long ago did this guy eat? Oh, it did not want to know-

To be quite fair, under the alpha’s hungry attention Mumbo felt a bit of unease sip through, which it knew to be stupid- but the guy really felt a lot more like an animal sometimes, and sudden inability to read him did not help in the slightest- might just bite the sandwich, might take your arm with him. And, while he was _never_ aggressive- even in retaliation for aggression- it still… Huh.

Is this how Grian feels all the time?

Okay, no time for musing now. 

Relaxing and trying to be as friendly as it could, Mumbo spoke up: “Sorry I forgot about this- I assume you’re hungry?..”- the alpha only leaned toward it at the words, good- careful as ever, it extend the food to him, holding it in an easily accessible way no matter how the little guy might try to take it- the beta would not be surprised in the slightest if a high on fumes Grian would just try to bite the sandwich straight away like a kosh might.

It was, however, proven wrong- the alpha reached out a tentative hand, holding onto the sandwich for quite a bit before trying to take it and staring intently at its face throughout the exchange, as though to see any ulterior motives- little things about ones face really start being noticeable, when it’s the only source of information, Mumbo wonders why the guy surveys its face so carefully right now- he can smell, can he? Can he not relay on smell? Huh. 

That isn’t worrisome at all.

Yanked back from its thought by quiet munching, the beta is surprised, almost stunned with how… Similarly to normal Grian a starved Grian on fumes eats- slow, closely watching it, almost as though he’s… Scared, that if he eats too fast it’ll be taken away from him- interesting how it never noticed or thought like this before being unable to smell anything but _shitting vinegar_. Huh.

Lesson learned, always pay attention to detail.

Hoping to take some of the stress of off the poor thing, Mumbo closes its eyes, and, deeming it not enough for the anxious fella, leans onto the heels of its palms with them, as though tired- to be quite fair, today was a bit much, so taking some rest seems like a good idea either way.

After just a tick of not looking, it can already hear the changes in the little alpha’s munching- faster, hungrier, a lot less forced, all in all way better- and really wants to take a peek, but that would not go unnoticed, would it? The munching, meanwhile, got louder and more urgent, well now Mumbo’s concerned for the poor guy’s safety- he might choke if he eats this fast, but intervention will most definitely make the matters worse, so it keeps its relaxed facade for the sake of not making the little alpha freak out and definitely choke, which would not be fun.

Grian’s done eating with one last gulp, but it doesn’t look just yet- this guy has some… Roundabout ways of thinking, and Will come up with goodness knows what scenarios in his head at the drop of a hat- not even when a quiet ‘thanks’ interrupts the silence, instead just replaying ‘no problem’ and nuzzling into its hands a bit. Huh, it was more tired then it initially thought- and slight nausea didn’t much help its case.

Wait, nausea- Bleach- just four ticks of inhaling- **Shit**.

Whipping up to look at the alpha, Mumbo- _oh Shit_\- _shitting vinEGAR_\- this time, it works to not cough and black out, noting the little guy curl into himself so tightly it must’ve hurt, making just the smallest most strangled of noises, _oh _**_shit_**, how fucked up are his scent glands _holy shit_-

The guy is unconscious. How much of a setback will this provide? How good is his self control, even in this highly intoxicated state? _Why _is it this good? Huh, it probably took the last ounces of that with letting him eat the sandwich at his own pace. He was getting better at communication too, even letting a little mischief shine through at times. Would this take that all away?

“I guess we have to take you to the hospital, now”- its voice is perfectly even. How?

Mumbo doesn’t know. What it does know, Grian is extremely light, and when Joe sees this he might murder them both in his typical Joe Hills fashion.

If there is anything left to murder, that is.

It never, ever hoped to get scolded so much in its entire life.


	2. This does count as hopeful, right?

The very first thing Grian does upon waking up is sniff the air- there’s Mumbo, and Joe, and Scar and Jellie, and it’s easier to tell who wasn’t in the room recently then who was. Wait, this is not- he’s in the hospital room!

Opening his eyes probably too fast, there’s the local spoon, asleep on the little stool next to his bed, and oh shit did he wake up too early this time?! Wait, no-

A spike of Mumbo-flavored anxiety jumps through the serenity, and the beta is up straight in a flash, looking at him with a very blurry expression- it obviously can’t see yet, because it opened its eyes even faster then Grian did, what a spoon.

At least now he knows he didn’t travel back in time. Probably.

“Oh thank goodness you’re okay”- the words are rushed and slurred, and the beta is still squinting funnily, leaning towards him and smelling so, so relieved, and he finds himself very puzzled- why wouldn’t he be okay? His neck may hurt a little, but other then that he’s fine-

Oh shit, shit, what did he do- He really hopes not what he thinks he did-

“OhgoshwhatdidIdo-“- he really, really hopes he didn’t-

“Nothing horrible, you simply cleaned your house and uhh… Got a bit carried away”- its voice is worryingly strained but it still smells relieved, good, thank goodness- How’d that get him into the hospital room? Oh, that’s right. Bleach. Not exactly his smartest move.

“‘M sorry”- looking up at Mumbo at last, he notes the beta is yet to get rid of squinting, and is staring at him intently, as though he’s some sort of a book in a foreign language it kinda understands- why? No one ever did that, not like this at least.

“What?”- the spoon is startled into jerking back to its perfectly straight sitting position, and it looks almost comically surprised, smelling of bitterness and then of sickly sweet embarrassment- it’s pretty funny, and Grian swats at guilt that tries to take its rightful place. Or not rightful? He was told to not fret over small things like this, this wasn’t even his fault, or was it- fuck, emotions are confusing. Fuck it/

Meanwhile, Mumbo covers its neck with both hands, and it looks so uncomfortable Grian might actually die: “Well, you did also soak your scent thingies in vinegar, and I was really confused, so I decided to pay attention to your face and figured out quite a bit, yeah, quite a bit of things, so I thought- Ah, never mind, I can just stop if you want-“

“Nononono, that’s fine! You’re fine”- the beta obviously relaxed at that, which he could not say for himself- having recalled the vinegar stuff, he was… Not all that proud, to put it lightly, which he didn’t fully understand, but Joe said being mean to yourself never helped anyone and somehow managed to convince him, so Grian could at least try.

Berating yourself is stupid, so he had every right to do so! Not really, berating yourself was also mean to those around you, but an alpha can dream. Goodness his jokes suck, but at least they’re kinda funny.

Baby steps and all that.

Back to Mumbo, it’s once again studying his face- which now that he understands, he has no qualms with or he’d be a hypocrite- and looks very comically concentrated, brows knitted together and hunching over a bit, probably why it wasn’t scary right now- when it is, it’s so casual the malice is easy to miss all together, and while Grian now knew all that to be a joke… Yeah.

Casual malice did not spark joy.

Deciding not to fixate on Mumbo and the Hermits in general being creepy as hell, he smiles, albeit awkwardly: “Sorry I kinda spaced out on you there, ’s just-“- the beta perks up, smiling back happily, its scent giving a nice background: “It’s nothing, dude! I’m just glad you're alive, to be quite perfectly honest with ya!”

He knows that, he knows he deserves that, he knows none of _that _is his fault, he knows he isn’t lying, he knows he doesn’t hurt them, they would tell him, they _did_ tell him, he knows he’s a victim and he knows, he knows, _he knows_\- he hears a strained sob, it’s his own, his vision is blurry but at least he can see now- he knows, but he doesn’t _feel_ like any of that is true, how could it be, he knows what happened to him and Taurtis isn’t his fault, he was tricked, he fought so hard to remember that, but he still feels so _guilty_, fuck _them_ for this, he knows and knowing is no use- he can’t cry, his throat feels like it’s trying to close in on itself, his cheeks hurt, _he_ _knows it’s their fault, not his_\- he opens his arms and offers a very distressed Mumbo a hug, and the beta bumps into his chest and cries, and he knows it’s for him, instead of him, only broken, wrong sobs hurting and eating up his body, and crying is bad, and it isn’t, he has every right to but _he can’t_\- combing through the beta’s hair, careful not to trap it in place, he lets himself hurt like hell and his chest feel like a vacuum chamber, and maybe one day, he’ll feel what he knows, but for now-

_Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them fuck them fuck them_, they took everything and more from him and he will fucking destroy them, and fuck them, how _dare _they make him _this_-

Anger is easier then calm. So fuck them. Fuck them until they implode. And with that, he doesn’t even care anymore.

But well, Iskall promised, so one day. One day, they’re all going down. But for now, he’ll just sit here, combing through Mumbo’s hair, pain from earlier failure to cry the only reminder he felt at all, and he’s okay. He’s almost happy, in a way. And that’s more then he could say just three dozens ago.

Progress, motherfucker- his smirk at that makes him feel like an asshole, but the asshole it’s directed at is way worse, so he might as well.


End file.
